


pluck the vibrating strings of fate

by labocat



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Endgame compliant, Gen, Post-Endgame, Tony is a ghost only Strange can see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-06 08:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20288512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: Stephen wonders if any of the others who had been snapped ever remembered the time in between. In none of the other futures was he brave or stupid enough to ask a question he didn’t want to know the answer to. He hopes it was just an artifact of handling the Time Stone, of astral projection and the combination of the two.But that doesn’t explain why he still sees Tony Stark everywhere.





	pluck the vibrating strings of fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [28ghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/28ghosts/gifts).

_One in fourteen million…_

Stephen wonders if any of the others who had been snapped ever remembered the time in between. In none of the other futures was he brave or stupid enough to ask a question he didn’t want to know the answer to. He hopes it was just an artifact of handling the Time Stone, of astral projection and the combination of the two.

But that doesn’t explain why he still sees Tony Stark everywhere. Not in the way everyone else does — in murals, in the paper, on the news, at kitschy tourist shops trying to grab a buck sanctifying someone by erasing the rest of his life — but floating next to him, giving him snarky suggestions on things he knows nothing about. 

Okay, fine, Stephen had perhaps done similar things in the years between, but five years was a long time to exist as only an astral form or worse, as no one could even hear him. It had kept him sane, commenting on Tony’s experiments, answering Tony’s mutterings and pretending they were a conversation. He’d learned a lot about mechanical engineering, which was something he never thought he’d say, or even want to say. 

He rubs his temples. “You know, this all might count for something if you had any idea of the theory about which you’re trying to criticize. At least my comments stuck to things I at least had an inkling of. Which seems to be too much work for you.” He grimaces slightly at the gleeful expression on Tony’s face, slightly translucent but no less discernible, all the more pity.

“So you _were_ there. I thought I felt something every now and then in the garage. You know, cold spots, disembodied voices, that sort of thing. I figured it just came with the cabin-in-the-woods territory.”

“This is what I mean; astral projections are not _ghosts_, and most of the mythos surrounding them are a mishmash of traditions and descriptions of spells gone astray, which you would _know_ if you’d been paying any sort of attention.”

Tony is resolutely ignoring him, flapping his hands and blowing in an attempt to cause a breeze. Stephen barely manages to suppress the shiver from the chill it causes. It wouldn’t do to give in this early in the fight. Stephen does his best to ignore Tony right back and turns his attention to the text in front of him. When he surfaces to reality next, Tony is gone. He doesn’t know where Tony goes in these cases, but he is exceedingly glad Tony doesn’t seem to be able to read Sumerian. He might accuse Stephen of caring if he knew he was researching how to lay lost spirits to rest. Though Stephen would argue that Tony is certainly not lost, and he only cares about being able to think or work for an entire day without interruption. Not the look on Tony’s face when he stares out the window. Nor the way Stephen stopped checking the news articles Wong sends him when Tony was around. 

He doesn’t know how long something like this is supposed to take — nothing about this is normal — but he knows it's been a while by the way Tony stops using sarcasm solely as a shield and their snarking at each other starts to approach something like actual conversation, or at least the ones Stephen used to use as a substitute in the years between. He finds himself leaving books out, translating relevant passages into English and in plain sight, even when Tony is out. He drifts less these days, almost as if he’s anchored himself to Stephen. The progress of banishing spirits or laying them to rest has been put to the side, replaced by books on object manipulation and switching between astral and physical forms, books Stephen mastered years ago. Tony doesn’t call him on it, and Stephen continues to not mention it.

It happens on a Saturday, a hot, muggy sort of summer day that makes Stephen wish that either his robes weren’t quite so layered or that maintaining any sort of air manipulation spell didn’t leave him just as lethargic as not dealing with the heat at all. He’s cursing whoever built the Sanctum and never updated it to have air conditioning when he knocks over a cup of iced tea. His physical reflexes are too slow — he knows he’d just fumble it — but before he can start any spell, it’s floating on its own, Tony’s hand supporting it and setting it back on the counter. They look at each other, Tony turning his hands over and over like he can’t quite believe what just happened, and Stephen’s mind racing over texts and possibilities. 

“I..,” Tony starts.

“Don’t get cocky, that wasn’t even the basic of basics,” Stephen cuts him off, but the way Tony is grinning makes the corner of his own mouth twitch slightly. He knows just the book to leave out tonight, to see if Tony can do this again and turn the page and learn more.

They’re only getting started.


End file.
